Ima made arigatō
by Clio S.S
Summary: Hyūga Kojirō leaves to play in Serie A, and one person isn't very happy about it... A kind of sequel to "Shot".


Takeshi hardly ever cursed his shortness as much as this very moment. How could he see... anyone in that crowd? Well, everybody knew that airports used to be crowded, and he did know too; he only hadn't paid attention to it before... for he hadn't needed to look out for anyone. A few times, he'd happened to see others to the flight... but, exactly: see them, which meant to accompany. Now he sought blindly, fervently looking around, with the impression all faces merged into one.

If he didn't find him... he couldn't blame anyone but himself. Never before had he so greatly regretted his own stupidity, that had made him wait until the very last. Well, maybe it wasn't even stupidity... just fear to make a fool of himself; to not be able to remain calm; to not act in a natural manner; to say something that he absolutely shouldn't say. He could very easily imagine each of those situations; his mind had been occupying itself with them for the last few days. Yes, it was fear, stupidity, pride, and other stuff. Only today, just one hour... two hours ago, he'd realized those things were of no importance at all. Important was that his beloved person was leaving and Takeshi had no idea when he would be able to meet with him again. And if he didn't manage to see him before, he would never forgive himself.

He had ran for a train faster than during any game and then was under the impression that the airport express couldn't have possibly go even slower. On his way, instead of calming down, he'd gone nearly hysterical, taunted by the single thought, 'I won't make it, I won't make it,' with every beat of his heart making him suffer... He realized such behaviour was unlike him, yet he just couldn't control it, no matter how revolting he found it to be. He considered it a success that he hadn't stopped the train and run on his own feet, ha ha...

Upon entering the terminal, he was terrified by the masses filling it and almost lost his heart. At first, he panicked, not knowing what he should do. Then he forced himself to think and had a look at the departures board. He had to read it three times, up and down, before his eyes caught the Rome flight. First slight feeling of relief: he _wasn't_ too late; there was still hope. He ran to the gate, trying not to bump into anyone, which appeared to be quite impossible. Well, he would somehow bear with several people regarding him ill-mannered; today was the last day he could be bothered by something like that.

His heart was beating hard, and he knew it wasn't due to physical activity. He realized that his feeling on this matter were still conflicting. Even thought he'd abandoned his reason and come here - or the contrary: he'd made the most sensible thing in the world - he was struggling against the urge to flee. His mind kept offering him new visions as for what might go badly. However, he reminded himself that he would certainly regret this if he gave up now, turned back and went home. Damn it, wasn't it normal that he wanted to say goodbye to the man he'd owed so much? It was, by every mean. One could even say that more strange would be his _absence_ here...

Goodbye... He stopped dead in his track when a terrible, freezing cold filled his chest, making it difficult to breathe, and his courage left him. No, he wouldn't manage it. He would start crying, he really would, while he still had some respect for himself and couldn't let it happen. Actually, why had he even come here, in the first place? So that it would hurt even more? To see him really leaving? If he hadn't, he could still delude himself that it hadn't really happened. That he was still here... in the same country, not somewhere at the far end of the world.

And he was really hopeless. He couldn't feel happy that his former captain - his idol and the most important person in the world - had gained recognition and had been invited to play in the best football league in the world, in one of the most famous clubs. No, instead, Takeshi focused on his own misery, while it wasn't even so that they would never see each other. They were both on the national team, there would be many occasions... He really had no reason to go dramatic.

Nevertheless, no matter how he tried to rationalize it, that gnawing sensation of emptiness wouldn't leave. He was under the impression he would never stop feeling cold. He didn't want to feel that; it was somehow... degrading. At the same time, he knew it was nothing new. For the last... How many years it had been? Five. For the last five years, he'd had more than enough time to grow used to such states. Exactly: grow used. He had to contain himself. He didn't plan to make a scene, bursting into tears in the middle of air terminal, did he? And even before he managed to meet a person who made him into such a pathetic condition, too, he thought ironically.

'Sawada Takeshi, get a grip,' he told himself... and was right on time, for the next moment he heard the voice that had always made him tremble, "Takeshi?"

He raised his eyes. Hyūga Kojirō, the captain of all those teams they had used to play in, was standing before him with his hands in pockets and sunglasses on his eyes, and didn't look like a person about to go into the unknown... But he was Hyūga Kojirō, who had never feared changes and whose gaze was always looking ahead, towards his new goals.

The surge of affection was so strong that Takeshi suddenly couldn't utter a word; he was amazed that he was still able to breathe, with his throat clenched like this. So he was only standing there, realizing he'd already made a fool of himself even before he started to talk... 'Snap out of it, man. You're not a junior high boy to go speechless at the sight of your love.' Well, but it was exactly like that. And he'd said something about respect for himself?

"You're going somewhere, too?" Hyūga asked, moving his sunglasses up onto his hair, and nothing in his voice indicated he found Takeshi's behaviour strange. Well, at least no more than normally, ha ha...

Quite unexpectedly, Takeshi felt he relaxed. Regardless of his feelings, that had only intensified as the years had gone by, for some strange reason he always felt more confident when by Hyūga's side. Calmer. Hyūga-san, harsh and demanding, could show support and kindness to those he cared about; Takeshi was the best example of it.

"No. I came to see you off," he replied and was amazed he'd managed to say a whole sentence so smoothly.

Something flickered in Hyūga's eyes. "Thanks," he said in a low voice.

At first, almost involuntarily, Takeshi felt surprised by that tone... and then remembered that Hyūga was no longer that defiant boy who had wanted to achieve everything on his own. Playing soccer - fighting with the team against the rivals - had taught him to see people around him not only as the tools to accomplish his goals. And, at the same time, it taught him humility, which one could nowadays see in his eyes. He'd grown up. He'd matured. One might say he'd softened, but it sounded strange to Takeshi's ears. You couldn't tame the wild tiger, could you? Besides, on the field, he was still that fierce warrior, hard both on his companions and opponents... Moreover, how he'd changed didn't really affect Takeshi, for _him_ Hyūga had always treated in a special way. Maybe that was why Takeshi-

His heart beat harder again, so he forbade himself to follow that thought and instead returned to the previous one. So, Hyūga-san had changed... And when he remembered that, he also understood - thanks to that one word he hadn't expected - that his former captain, in spite of his apparent calm, wasn't leaving for Europe without any concern or anxiety. That stage when he'd had absolute confidence in his skills, which actually could be called overconfidence, was past him. The current state wasn't probably that pleasant... but it was the only way for him to develop as a soccer player.

The thought of their inevitable parting was so painful. Takeshi lowered his head, thinking of something to say. He couldn't stand like a log, like a complete moron; he hadn't come here for that... "Hyūga-san, good luck in Europe," he muttered, trying to look him in the eye, which proved to be impossible, so he stared at his shoes again. "Show those Italians that... that they had better not take the Japanese football... lightly," he stuttered with a feeling of a total failure.

How hard it was to say such things, such banal remarks, when he really wanted to say something entirely different. His throat clenched again, and he spent a moment gulping in order to get hold of himself, which seemed too difficult, though. He really shouldn't have come here; it was too hard... Surely Hyūga-san would rather not see him like this. "I'm sorry," he uttered.

"Takeshi..."

"And I have no farewell gift for you," he said, suddenly realizing it.

His lips stretched in an ironic grimace, as if he tried to say some joke, but actually he was on the verge of tears. He forced himself to stay where he was, although everything in him wanted to run away. He clenched his fists, still staring at the floor he couldn't really see, just like the people passing by, hurriedly or at a leisurely pace, and filling the terminal with a particular tumult. He thought he'd like to board a plane and fly away, far from here - or even disappear for ever. A noise of an ascending machine came from outside... or was it that humming in his head? He felt as if his mind was filled with some fog that made thinking impossible. But maybe this state was better, actually?

"Takeshi, look at me," his former captain said, his deep voice penetrating the noise. Takeshi thought he was asking too much. "Takeshi, but... But you've given me a lot already. All these years..." Hyūga paused, maybe he was wandering about what to say; it seemed talking didn't come without difficulty for him either. "Takeshi, without you I wouldn't be here now, really," he resumed, apparently resolute to talk his thoughts out, and as he talked, his speech became smoother, the words coming more easily to his mouth. "Thank you... Thank you for everything. For playing with me in Meiwa FC and Tōhō. For all those victories we've achieved. You know it wouldn't have happened without you. You know that, don't you? And I'm not talking about your play only. No-one else could ever... put me straight like you did when I needed it," now Hyūga sounded amused, but soon he grew serious again. "Thank you, Takeshi, for bearing with me for so long," he said in a softer voice, and now Takeshi did look at him, surprised.

He hadn't expected to hear something like that. He'd borne with him...? He'd never, not even once, thought about _not wanting_ to be with him. Hyūga Kojirō had become his idol right at the beginning, and since then Takeshi had been enjoying every day, every training, and every game the two of them did. "What are you-" he started and stopped, realizing that Hyūga-san was referring to his difficult character.

He started at him, filled only with endless affection. He looked at the tanned face, encircled by unruly hair that he'd longed to stroke. He looked at those dark eyes, that seemed to be ready to avert their gaze any moment, and at lips firmly pressed together. He thought he'd never loved him as much as now. And never before had he longed so much to hold him, tell him it wasn't true and Hyūga-san was a great man whom he-

But it wasn't a shōjo manga, only harsh reality that didn't allow such things - even if it was a parting, even if he didn't know when they would meet again. Something stirred in him. Maybe he should have courage, maybe he should take his chance and-

An unexpected push from behind nearly made him fall over. Someone had shoved him... some traveller in a hurry had hit him with his bag, and the next moment Takeshi realized his face was pressed against Hyūga's chest, as were his hands he had instinctively put out in order to prevent a fall. Hysterically, he thought that shōjo manga situation could happen in real world, after all.

He took a deep breath, trying to refrain from crying. It was too much... He should move back, say goodbye and leave... but he just couldn't. He pressed his eye-lids tight, and his fingers clutched on the fabric of Hyūga's shirt. "Do you really need to go...?" he whispered and never before had felt so embarrassed he did now.

Two hands touched his shoulders. He thought he would be pushed away, but even this wasn't enough to make him break this moment. Apparently, respect for himself wasn't the most important thing; he could sacrifice it for this sweet - and so bitter - instant... for this memory that would stay with him, even if Hyūga-san hit him.

Yet, no hit followed. Hyūga allowed him that minute of weakness, and they just stayed like that, without any words. Takeshi felt his own heart beating hard - and would swear he could hear the other one, so close.

"Takeshi, you'll do well even without me," Hyūga whispered after a while. "And I..." he took a deep breath, "I'll do well without you, too," he said as if he'd made a decision.

Takeshi took a step back and looked at him; he didn't care about the tears in his eyes. The touch of hands on his shoulder made him feel as if there was no-one else but the two of them. It was another world that belonged only to them. A safe world. He realized it was his only chance. "Hyūga-san, I-"

 _"Japan Airlines flight 4527 to Rome is ready for boarding..."_

Hyūga let his arms fall, glancing over his shoulder. "I have to go," he said, looking at him again. "Matsumoto-san is waiting."

Takeshi nodded, although this small move required all his strength. He could barely stand on his feet. Everything had burned out, only emptiness was left. He had... he had to find some sense... some purpose in his life, something to support him and help him walk forward... although at the moment it seemed beyond his abilities.

"Thanks for coming, Takeshi," Hyūga gave him a warm look. "Thanks for everything," he repeated.

"Have a safe trip," Takeshi replied, feeling it was someone else speaking through his mouth. The words tasted like ash, they were dead… but...

The gaze of those dark eyes, so open, so honest, lit a spark that warmed his inside and held the freezing darkness back. He was still alive. He could still feel. He couldn't part with him like this. Not with Hyūga.

He fixed his eyes on the man he would gladly give his life for. "Me too... Thank you for everything, Hyūga-san," he said solemnly, putting his heart in every word.

A shy smile stretched his former captain's lips; Hyūga took a step back and raised one hand. "See you, Takeshi."

"See you, Hyūga-san."

Hyūga nodded, turned away and went to Matsumoto-san in a boarding line. Soon, their figures were obscured by other travellers.

Takeshi clenched his fists and then relaxed them again. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, then raised his head and walked to the exit... and to his new life. Without Hyūga Kojirō, it seemed devoid of any sense, but...

 _You'll do well without me._

He could... He could at least try.


End file.
